


Chained

by princesscimorene



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Corporal Punishment, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, S&M, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8902687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesscimorene/pseuds/princesscimorene
Summary: The walls of Camelot hold many secrets that even the king does not know. What happens in the dungeons stays in the dungeons.Based after season 5 - headcanon where Morgana isn't evil, no one dies, and both Morgana and Merlin are open about their magic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur has some fun with Morgana.

Although the dungeons don't chill this time of year, Morgana is shivering. She struggles a bit against the chains binding her wrists and ankles, but ultimately sinks into the slow, burning stretch of her limbs pulled taut. There is a blindfold tied firmly to cover her eyes and she wonders, almost excitedly, if she is alone. Her bare toes brush the cool, stone floor but she could not hold her own weight if she tried; she is strung up and at anyone's mercy who may wander through this part of the dungeon.

At once, the barred gate scrapes open and shut as heavy footsteps enter the cell. She tries to straighten her posture as best she can, her head held high. She hears some rustling and heavy footsteps once more. Suddenly, there is someone before her, using their knee to pry her thighs apart and slamming her into the coarse wall. She lets out a high gasp and sees stars as her head comes into hard contact with stone. A deep voice barks out, "Open."

She complies, opening her mouth wide, and a thin gag is placed between her teeth and fastened within the tangles of her dark hair. She rolls her eyes beneath the blindfold; she should've known. Arthur loves having her chained up and helpless. The young Pendragon circles her and she tries to remain composed, defiant as she always is, though they both know who really has the upper hand here. He stops in front of her again and unsheathes the dagger he keeps on his belt. She shivers at the sound of blade against leather, undecided about which she craves more against her skin. Then again, it is not her decision to make. And the chilled blade of the dagger is like ice and fire against her skin. He starts at the hollow of her throat, causing her to gasp and revel in the sting of the knife against her.

"Careful, Morgana, we don't want any accidents like last time. You must be still. Do not make a sound. That is an order."

Her temper flares despite how much she loves this game, and she has to fight down the urge to disobey. She stills, waiting patiently.

"Good girl."

Arthur drags the blade against her flesh, down to touch the hollow of her chest. He then circles each areola before pushing hard, drawing a line from the valley between her breasts to her navel. She does not flinch but can feel the blood begin to pool on her surface.

"Beautiful," he whispers, and licks a stripe up her body, taking her blood with him. He presses the flat edge of his knife against her clit and mouths hungrily at her breasts, biting and tonguing her nipples. Morgana has to fight the urge cry out; she knows how brutal Arthur's punishments can be. Her clit is throbbing against the contact, despite how cold and offensive the blade feels against her. She doesn't care. Her longing to be touched has risen far beyond the realm of desire and has crash-landed amongst burning, aching, screaming, _need_.

Arthur removes the blade from her clit and she wants to shriek out at the loss of contact. Before she can even react in protest, the sharp edge is on her again, climbing up her thigh. The prince drops to his knees before her and she can feel his breath, hot, on her cunt. It takes everything in her to keep quiet and still, though she can’t stop her chest from heaving. The knife presses hard into the soft swell of her thigh, breaking the delicate skin. Arthur laps at the blood and repeats his assault on her other thigh. Slowly, the blade circles her mound and her body jolts unexpectedly as the tip of the knife dips into her wet folds. Suddenly, she can’t feel Arthur. His breath and knife are gone and she can hear him opposite the dungeon. After a few wrecked moments, he returns and Morgana is simply quivering. Immediately, she can tell something is wrong. His breathing is labored and heavy, and the way he circles her this time is different. His steps are slow, measured, and distinct. Her breath hitches in her throat when he speaks; his voice is low and angry.

“Morgana,” he begins, his voice shaking, “what is it that you do not understand? What about my orders are so insurmountably complex that you cannot grasp?”

Morgana shakes her head frantically, trying to speak against the obtrusive object between her teeth.

“You know I will not take a blade to anyone else. Do you know why that is?”

Morgana shakes her head again.

“They do not have control like you do. I know what you are capable of, what restraint you possess."

The king's ward swells with pride at these words, unable to stop a small smile from twitching at her lips.

“No,” Arthur snaps, “you disobeyed me. That blade could have seriously injured you, Morgana, don’t you know that? When you moved, it could have sliced your skin beyond repair. And what use would I have for you then?”

Morgana whimpers, cut deeply. He didn’t mean that, he couldn’t.

“Think, Morgana. If that blade had pierced your skin, what could you do? Would you go to Gaius and have him try and heal you? What would you tell him?”

Morgana blushes fiercely beneath her blindfold and hangs her head as it dawns on her exactly what was at stake. Surely, the court physician would tell the king. And what then? How could she explain how she sustained such an injury?

“Good,” Arthur spat, “I’m glad you’re finally comprehending the delicacy of our situation. I think we’re done for today.”

Morgana cries out, writhing against her bonds. Hot tears prick at her eyes and she shakes her head wildly, desperately. She can do better. She knows she can. She is fraught, aching, to prove that she is capable of much more than he believes her to be. A fire is alight inside her that cannot be put out. Arthur studies her carefully before submitting to her squirming and pleading, “Fine. But you will be punished, Morgana. You need to be taught a lesson. Do you agree?”

Morgana nods her head furiously, dying for him to touch her again.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me.”

Immediately, Morgana’s eyes flash gold beneath her blindfold and the gag falls to the dungeon floor.

“Please, please, Arthur…. I need to be punished. Teach me a lesson, please. I need to learn. I need—”

The prince cuts her off, “That’s enough.”

He bends down to undo the cuffs around her ankles and places small laps against her clit, teasing her mercilessly. He smirks against her skin as she nearly growls in protest. He stands and reaches above her to undo the chains that hold her to the ceiling. She inhales sharply as he presses against her; it takes every ounce of her dignity not to hump his leg. She lets out a shaky laugh at the thought, how did Arthur become so in control? Never in her wildest nightmares would she place herself in this situation. And yet, here she was. Dripping wet and willing to do anything, _anything_ , for him. She drops suddenly, nearly collapsing, before his strong arms wrap around her waist and hold her up. He unties her blindfold and stares deeply into her eyes, speaking softly, “You’re alright, my pet?”

Morgana nods, her throat dry. His blue eyes full of concern and love, making her woozy. His strong, chiseled arms around her bare waist weren’t helping either. When exactly did Arthur become so damn gorgeous? Morgana didn’t know, and she didn’t care. All on her mind is her punishment to come. After she gains her footing, Arthur releases her.

“Face the wall. Spread your legs, wide. Place your hands on the stone and do not move or speak.”

Morgana complies immediately and without question, preparing herself for what he might have in store. Goosebumps prickle at her skin, the cool stone of the wall and floor clashing against the heat of her arousal. Her legs shake in anticipation against her will; Morgana does not usually have to wait for her punishments. Arthur likes punishing her more than pleasuring her, she can tell by his incomparable fervor, though they are usually one in the same. Arthur finally crosses the room to stand behind her and she nearly stops breathing as she waits for the expected pain. And then it comes. He uses the flogger on her, and damn him, he knows how much she loves it. She nearly laughs as the first blow lands on her thighs; this is hardly punishment. The soft leather splatters against her bare arse and she arches into it, eager for its slow burn to caress her skin once more. He whips her again, again, again, all on the supple mound below the dimples on her back. It takes all she has not to moan aloud at the contact. It feels like agonizing, taunting, fiery heaven. And then he flogs her pussy. Her arms give out and she slumps against the rough stone wall, uncaring that she disobeyed. She is aching for him, anything, to enter her now. A growl rips through Arthur and he throws the flogger aside, slamming his body against hers.

“I’ll have to lock you in the cells overnight for this, Morgana. Make you choke down my cock through the bars for all the guards to see. You can’t obey. One. Simple. Order.”

With his last words, he slams his cock into her aching, wet cunt. She screams out, her back arched, as she pushes back into his thrusts. The burn is delicious. The wall is scraping against her face and tits but she doesn’t even care, she’s already so close to breaking. He pounds her roughly and she comes undone, screaming, as he winds her hair in his fist and pulls. She falls limp and he continues to pound her mercilessly until he spills his hot seed inside of her. She collapses, wrecked, to the floor. Arthur does up his breeches, returns the flogger to its place on the wall, and returns to her side. He picks her up, stroking her hair, and lays her on the soft bed of blankets that Guinevere had brought down the night before. He strokes her face gently before he turns to leave and as he shuts the gate behind him, he calls out, “I’ll be returning tonight with a few of my favourite knights to have you service my cock. You’ll be deeply sorry if you fail me in front of them, Morgana.”

She just smiles, knowing that sucking his cock is at least one order she couldn't disobey if she tried. 


End file.
